The Cycle of the Ages
by Maeve Cairech
Summary: Well, for those of you who have read my unfinished (sorry!) fic 'Thunder in the Rain', you may have wondered aout the poem at the beginning. This is another part of the supposed book of Redwall prophecies written ages ago. These riddles are about all offi


Try and guess which is who, eh?  
  
A wife, a son, to treasure,  
But the tides sweep them away,  
A father gone, to seek revenge,  
Upon a darkened day,  
  
Steer thy fate across the waters,  
Steer thy fate to lose,  
Steer thy fate onto the rocks,  
Vengeance is what you choose.  
  
  
From the midday land comes the warrior,  
A flower breaks 'neath his paw,  
Though the night has fallen behind him,  
With a blade he carries the dawn,  
  
When tyrant dies by falling star,  
The builders journey from afar,  
Son of a warrior, you must learn,  
You get what you earn.  
  
  
Where the sun begins a warrior rises,  
Bound inside a thousand guises,  
One is yours and six be his,  
Quest to where the mountain is,  
  
Falling friend and falling foe,  
A son brought up to never know,  
Red he wears and blood he calls,  
A maid from those four walls.  
  
  
Son of hellgates o'er the sea,  
Beware of what you do,  
A bell, a bell, it's pounding knell,  
Will bring swift death to you,  
  
Forgotten times have left behind,  
A castaway of the sea,  
But brave and bold, her past untold,  
A warrior she must be,  
  
Life taken wrong, a simple song,  
Who bears the warrior's blade?  
A-questing for the tyrant's isle,  
His path himself will lay,  
  
Turn thou and face the liar,  
A seething cloud of grey,  
But a pearl from the horses' backs,  
Shall bring forth the day.  
  
  
Brown eyes see no secrets,  
A babe was left to die,  
Blue eyes are blind to all but gold,  
Smiling through the lies,  
  
Lightning strike to choose him,  
A blade from a summer storm,  
Gone away and found again,  
And set out to return,  
  
A ghost that haunts forgotten,  
A black one lost and found,  
A beast with warrior's spirit,  
To bring the monster down,  
  
Brother long forgotten,  
Lost with life's last breath,  
The father of the mother,  
Of four walls of red.  
  
  
A scourge upon the abbeybeasts!  
A warrior lies asleep,  
Awake, awake, Iamthatis!  
A destiny to keep,  
  
Beware the red who shows the way,  
Beware beneath the ground,  
See the sky, mice so high,  
Wings that they have found,  
  
Seek the blade in moonlight,  
Seek in the devil's lair,  
Once more the bell shall boom death's knell,  
Twins a-broken there,  
  
A son by crimson taken,  
Hark not to the tumbler's song,  
And 'ware the blackness from above,  
When feathers all have gone,  
  
The white one lies beneath the earth,  
Where founders' paws once stood,  
'Ware thy captives King of the Dark,  
On high, cross river, through wood.  
  
  
Oceans weep for family lost,  
Green arrows flying true,  
A quest that takes ye far from home,  
Across the waves of blue,  
  
Twist and turn along thy path,  
A flower blooming here,  
Find the treasure that you seek,  
And lose something so dear,  
  
Return them to their owner,  
Who weeps, is weeping still,  
Mother, daughter, father, son,  
Now do what you will.  
  
  
Leave behind the trees of death,  
After the blood falls on the shore,  
Hunt for plunder, hunt for battle,  
Fifty score and more and more,  
  
Let the young one seek his fate,  
Wandering be his guide,  
Where a flower rules the beasts of green,  
Lose and find a life,  
  
Red eyes burn for vengeance new,  
The newborns led to die,  
War beneath the otter's tail,  
Hark to a lordbabe's cry.  
  
  
Beasts of magic, beasts of guile,  
Here and there and everywhere,  
Come to plunder come to steal,  
Been and gone- see hide nor hair!  
  
Four young chieftains forth must go,  
To the island of Whiteghost,  
Last of all, sleeping in madness,  
Destroyed by those you fear the most.  
  
  
Speedwell, speed far, oh Taggerung,  
Brought by an arrow shaft,  
But can you kill? Oh vermin babe,  
No blood- for all thy craft,  
  
Run and find to seek thy home,  
And thy true name there,  
Champion, nay Juskababe,  
The blade is thine to bear.  
  
  
NB. As I believe 'Lord Brocktree' to be by far the worst of BJ's work (no offense man- just say if you don't feel inspired! I know what it's like!), I have not included any prophecies that correspond to that particular work. Flame if you feel it is necessary.


End file.
